


Don’t forget about me

by magicalcookie664



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Awkward Boners, Boys Kissing, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Being an Idiot, Crying, Cutting, Deceit Sanders Angst, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hickies, Hugging, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I think that’s it, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Sweetheart, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Post-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Pre-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Rage is a bully, Rough Kissing, Self-Harm, Separation Anxiety, Sick Character, Snuggling, Sorry again, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Vomiting, bed sharing, i think, no one dies, self hate, sleeping, sorry - Freeform, then becomes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:55:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23443675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalcookie664/pseuds/magicalcookie664
Summary: When Virgil was a dark side, he and Deceit had been together. Together, together. Romantically. Deceit had been Virgil's safety net, the person he told everything to. He'd protected Virgil against the bully Rage.When Virgil is accepted by the light sides, both their hearts break. Things go downhill and they try desperately to fix the broken shards of what they once had.Virgil x Deceit.Beware: Angst. :p
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Everyone, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 43
Kudos: 181





	1. How it all begins

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. They belong to Thomas Sanders. Everything that happens within this story is strictly fictional and only applies to this specific au. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: This story contains many potentially triggering subjects. Self harm, eating disorders (not otherwise specified), suicidal thoughts and mentions of past suicide attempts, abuse, self hate, mild gore (I'm bad at seeing what's gore or not so bear with me on that one) and anxiety attacks. I will put a warning at the beginning of each chapter. I am not trying to intentionally trigger anyone so please be careful. Thank you. (:
> 
> This is the first proper book I've written/decided to write in this fandom. I'm both excited and nervous about it and I will try to update as much as I can. Hope it's okay for anyone reading! :D

Virgil sinks back down into the dark side's section of the mind space, positively fuming. No matter how hard he tries, his input in Thomas' videos is never appreciated. Patton is the only one who's ever nice to him, though Virgil presumes it's only out of pity. Patton is a naturally caring and kind person - he has to be; he's morality after all - so he obviously feels it's necessary to be nice all the time. It doesn't matter anyway - he's just Anxiety to them. 

Virgil slips into the kitchen, praying that the room will be empty. It is, thankfully. He moves straight to the dull coloured fridge in the corner of the room and opens the door carefully. There's not much food in; Remus usually eats it all, or the majority of it anyway. Virgil doesn't mind himself, but Dee constantly berates Remus for it. He takes a can of limeade and closes the fridge door, proceeding to raid the cupboards in search of anything remotely interesting to eat. There's a few tubs of hot chocolate powder - which he internally rejoices at the sight of - and a bag of salted popcorn. He takes the popcorn in his other hand and hurriedly leaves the room. He does not want to run into Rage. 

The living room is empty and Virgil finds himself puffing out a laugh in relief. The laugh is rather raspy and sounds nothing like it should, but he honestly couldn't care less. It's not like anyone's around to hear him, is it? He flops down onto the couch, placing his drink on the cushioned space beside him. Picking up the remote, he switches the TV on and flicks over to Netflix, hoping to find something exciting to watch. He can't concentrate on what he's doing. Past arguments with Roman resurface in his mind. It's obvious the creative side hates him; his words leak hatred, the sour emotion poisoning everything he says. Roman's always insulting Virgil, his 'jokes' hitting the anxious side harder than he'd dare to admit. No matter how hard he tries, or how long he spends trying to convince himself he doesn't care, he can't stop the words replaying on repeat inside his head, can't help the feeling of hurt that spreads through him, cruel and painful. 

Virgil curls into a ball on the couch, tugging his hood over his head. Clutched in his hand is the can of limeade. He stares at it, eyes tracing the coloured lines on the label. He doesn't feel like drinking it anymore but he doesn't want to waste it. He takes a tentative sip, closing his eyes as the cool liquid touches his tongue. It's his job to be anxious, to be Thomas's anxiety, but that isn't all he is. He's his own person with his own opinions, thoughts and feelings. The others don't seem to see this, especially Roman. His eyes burn with tears. He won't let them fall though, so he he squeezes his eyes even tighter shut. 

At this moment Deceit decides to make an appearance. He slips into the room almost silently, closing the door to the kitchen behind him without making a single ounce of noise. He flips off the closed door, his expression guarded and his eyes narrowed. He tip toes up behind the couch so that he's towering over an oblivious Virgil a little. "Hey Virge," he mumbles, tugging the anxious side's hood off. 

"Dee," Virgil whines, twisting to face him, a curious smile on his face. He slips his hood back on, relishing in the small amount of comfort it brings him. 

Deceit pouts at him, leaning closer to the other dark side. "You know I don't like it when you cover that pretty face of yours," he whispers, his eyes locking with Virgil's. 

The anxious side blushes. "Shut up," he mumbles, unable to look his boyfriend in the eyes, he's so embarrassed. He turns back around to face the TV. "Get your ass over here, already," he orders, patting the cushion beside him, the red tint to his cheeks beginning to dissipate. 

Deceit chuckles, moving to sit down right next to Virgil on the couch. He wraps an arm around the other, tugging him closer. They're close, so close that their sides are pressed together. He notices that Virgil's trembling a little. Deceit frowns. "Virge, is something wrong?" He questions, shifting his position so he can move his arm. He brings his hand up to brush a few purple tinted hairs out of Virgil's face. 

Virgil turns his head to face Dee. His eyeshadow is running down his face, painting his cheeks with stripes of black. A sad noise escapes him and he quickly claps his palm over his mouth.

Deceit sighs, genuine sympathy filtering into his expression. "Is it the light sides again?" He questions.

Virgil nods, biting his lip to silence himself as more tears spill from his eyes. 

"Oh, Virge no," Dee whispers, bringing the anxious side into a hug, his arms wrapping around the other securely. He rubs circles on Virgil's back as he sobs into Deceit's chest, staining his clothes with wetness. Dee couldn't care less about that, though. He just wants to make everything alright again, take away the pain Virgil's feeling. The only problem is, he's not sure it can be done. 

"M'sorry," Virgil murmurs, his voice muffled by the fabric. He clings onto Dee like he's the only rock in the middle of a stormy sea. He hates crying, absolutely detests it. The action makes him feel weak and pitiful and tends to tire him out quite quickly. He presses his eyes shut as more tears spill from them, too wet and warm on his cheeks. 

Deceit cradles Anxiety against his chest, sifting fingers through his soft hair. "Don't apologise," he whispers, "It's not your fault," 

Virgil chokes out a pained laugh. "Yes it is. I'm being an idiot," he replies, his grip around Deceit slowly loosening. 

"No, you're not. They're the idiots if they can't accept how wonderful you are, Virge," Dee tell him, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of Virgil's head. "I mean that," he adds. 

A small smile breaks across Virgil's face as he brings himself out of the hug. "You're wonderful too, Dee," he says. He looks a bit of a mess, eyes watery from crying, cheeks streaked with black, tears beading on his chin, but gosh, does Deceit love him. 

"Do you want anything for dinner or should we just go straight to bed?" Deceit asks him, wiping a stray tear from the other's face. He smears the black a little more, getting some on his finger. 

"Sorry to break it to you, but I don't think we'll be going 'straight' anywhere," Virgil responds, grinning at him. 

"There's the Virgil I know and love," Dee replies, grinning too, leaning in to give Virgil a soft kiss on the lips. 

Virgil responds quickly, bringing Dee's face even closer to his own as he deepens the kiss. A small noise slips out of him as he's pulled onto Deceit's lap, his arms looping around Dee's middle.

Deceit licks at Virgil's bottom lip until the other dark side opens his mouth to grant him entrance. He's met with Virgil's tongue. He tangles his own around it, pressing closer to the anxious side. 

"Mmhm," Virgil murmurs, pressing back against Dee, his head tilting further to the side as their mouths move together. 

"Virge," Deceit breathes into his mouth, his palm sliding down his hoodie covered arm. 

Virgil pulls his lips from Dee's, leaning in even closer to attach them to Deceit's jaw, just where his scales end. He sucks on the spot, running his tongue along one of Dee's scales. 

A moan forces itself out of Deceit's mouth. "Virgil," he gasps,"What are you-"

Virgil moves down to his neck, nipping playfully at the skin there. He sucks at the small bite mark, swirls his tongue over the red mark happily. 

Deceit tugs away from Virgil's mouth, his cheeks flushed pink and pupils blown wide. "Stop that," he hisses, "We're going to bed now and I don't want a boner,"

Virgil wipes the excess spit from his mouth and smirks. "Sorry," he whispers, though it's obvious he's not sorry at all. 

Dee rolls his eyes, moving to stand up. "Bed," he orders," Now," 

Virgil blinks up at him, feigning innocence. "Carry me, Dee," He whines, tugging his hood back over his head once more. 

Deceit sighs, rolls his eyes again, but doesn't protest, only lifts the anxious side up into his arms. 

Virgil clings to Dee, nuzzling into his neck possessively. 

Deceit touches a fond kiss to the top of his little purple head before carrying him bridal style out of the living room. The popcorn and limeade are utterly forgotten. 

When they reach Dee's room Virgil is lowered onto the bed carefully. He tugs back the covers and slides in, a sleepy smile on his face, eyes following his boyfriend. 

Deceit switches the main light off and closes the door before joining Virgil in the big double bed. He gets in next to the anxious side and pulls the covers over the both of them. 

Virgil cuddles up to him immediately, pressing his face into the crook of Dee's neck with a yawn. "I'm tired," he whispers.

"Close your eyes and go to bed then," Deceit responds, reaching out to flick the switch by the yellow headboard. The bedside lamp turns off, swamping the room in darkness. He wraps his arms around Virgil, clutching his anxious boi close to his chest. "Love you, Virge," he whispers.

A sleepy mumble is the only reply he receives.


	2. Running into Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I just.. post chapter two of a book one day after posting chapter one? Now it does feel like 2018 again..   
> Also Rage is a real git.

Deceit opens his eyes slowly, unsure whether he's ready to rise from slumber yet. He'd had an interesting dream involving a certain dark side and is in no hurry to rejoin reality. He usually feels this way every morning so it's no big deal. He shifts into a sitting position, blinking a few times to make his eyesight a little less blurry. His attention switches to Virgil, fast asleep on top of him. The emo's arms are wrapped around him, clinging onto him as if he's a big teddy bear. Deceit chuckles softly, using his one free hand to stroke his fingers through Virgil's soft purple hair. 

Virgil shifts a little in his sleep, his grip tightening around Deceit. "Dee.." He mumbles, talking into the fabric of the other side's clothes. 

Deceit rolls his eyes but continues stroking his boyfriend's hair gently. "Are you ready to wake up? I'm starving over here," he says, his expression morphing into something extremely faux.

"Noooo… wanna sleep forever," Virgil groans, pressing his face into Deceit's chest. 

"But I'm gonna make breakfast," Deceit replies, shaking Virgil slightly. "Come on, Virge. Wakey wakey," 

A loud hiss is the only response given before Virgil rolls off of Deceit. He yanks the patterned covers over himself before curling up in a ball underneath them, his arms wrapped around his middle. 

Deceit sighs, a smile breaking across his face despite himself. He grips the fabric of the covers between his fingers and tugs at it, meeting considerable resistance. "Virge, come on," he groans. 

Virgil hisses again, clutching the blankets around himself tightly, so tightly that his knuckles grow white. "Stop… wanna sleep.." He whines, internally cringing at how pitiful he sounds. 

"Anxiety!" Deceit snarls, ripping the covers off of his curled up boyfriend. He tosses them to the side. 

Virgil lifts his head to look at Dee, his brown eyes wide. "D.. did you just… ?" He stammers, trailing off without even finishing the sentence. 

Deceit cringes, regret filtering through him almost immediately. "Shit, I meant to say that. I was thinking straight," he blurts out, staring at Virgil worriedly. It's obvious to the emo that Deceit didn't mean it, as he's began to speak in lies, something he only does when anxious or stressed. 

Virgil sits up properly, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Well, I'm up now I guess," he mumbles, flashing his boyfriend a half-hearted smile. He forgot to wipe his eyeshadow away from last night so it remains on his face, smeared across his skin from both crying and sleeping. 

"Good. I'm going to make breakfast," Deceit replies, standing up. He quickly changes (Virgil looks away for the most part) before heading to the door, gesturing for the other side to follow him. 

Virgil slides out of bed slowly, stifling a yawn. He fell asleep in his hoodie and sweatpants last night and doesn't see the point in changing out of them. He just picks his phone up from the charger cable on their bedside table and follows his boyfriend to the kitchen. 

Deceit starts opening cupboards, taking plates and glasses out to place them on the counter. He raids the fridge and brings out milk for coffee and a tub of butter to put on their toast. 

Virgil climbs onto the counter and sits there, scrolling through tumblr, eyeing Dee out of the corner of his eye. "Do we have any Crofters left?" He questions, stifling his second yawn of the day.   
"I think Remus ate it all," Deceit replies, taking two slices of bread from the pre-sliced loaf in the corner of the room. He inserts them in the first two slots of the toaster and sets it up for 2 minutes. 

"Remus eats everything," Virgil grumbles, glaring tiredly at his phone screen. It's too bright. Everything's too bright when you first wake up in the morning. 

Deceit makes himself and Virgil a coffee, then moves to take the toast out of the toaster. 

The door to the kitchen flies open and Rage storms inside, slamming it behind him. "Don't you fucking do that again, you idiot!" He screams at the closed door. 

Deceit tenses, his entire body freezing, the butter coated knife in his hand suspended over the slice of toast. 

Virgil shrinks in on himself, tugging his hood over his head in one quick movement. His hands are shaking. 

Rage turns around and catches sight of them. His irate expression fades a little, one of narcissistic superiority taking its place. He walks over to where Deceit stands, buttering toast slowly. "Sooooo, scales, correct me if I'm wrong but it looks to me as if you've got some of my food there," he gestures to the toast, his tone relatively light. 

Deceit swallows, pauses what he's doing and glances upwards at the other dark side, his expression guarded. "We all need to eat, Rage. This is the only food we have. It makes sense that we share it," he replies, eyeing the other cautiously. 

Sat on top of the counter, Virgil bites his lip. 

"Oh, is that right?" Rage bites back, snatching the plate of toast from the counter. "I think we all know the solution to this little dilemma, don't we?" 

Deceit sighs, stepping back from Rage a little, dreading what the other may suggest. 

"You two," Rage snarls, gesturing to Deceit and then to Virgil," Are a fucking waste of space. I don't want to catch either of you touching my food again, is that clear?" 

Virgil brings his legs up onto the counter, hugging them into his chest. 

Deceit swallows thickly. "Ra-" he begins, but is cut off.

"IS THAT CLEAR?" He bellows, throwing the plate of toast at the wall. It collides with the painted plasterboard, china shattering upon impact. 

Virgil claps his palms over his ears, nodding vigorously as tears well up in his eyes. 

"Yes, Rage, it's clear," Deceit replies, his voice quiet. 

"Good," Rage spits out, fixing Deceit with a venomous glare. He then turns his attention to Virgil, smirking at the emo's disheveled appearance before grabbing the mug of coffee sat beside him and moving to leave the room. He slams the door behind him, causing Virgil to jump and the tears building up in his eyes to spill over. 

Deceit picks up his mug of coffee and joins Virgil on the counter. "Here, you can have mine," he says, handing the coffee to the anxious side. 

Virgil takes it from him with trembling hands. He's biting his lip, cheeks streaked with tears. Most of the black has been washed from his face through crying, leaving only thin black lines tracing down his skin. Most of the eyeshadow sits on his jawline, where his tears drip off of his face. "Why does everyone hate me?" He whispers, staring down at the mug in his hands. 

"I don't hate you, Virge. I'm very much "not" in love with you," Deceit murmurs, slipping an arm around Virgil. 

Virgil leans into Dee's touch, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, the mug of hot coffee clutched in his hands. "What does Rage expect us to do, disappear?" He continues, another single tear leaking from his eye. 

Deceit wipes it away with his thumb. "I don't know what he wants. He's fickle. He let us eat last week. He's just in another mood," he answers. 

"He's scary," Virgil whispers, bringing the grey mug up to his lips to take a sip of the warm liquid. 

"I know," Deceit replies, sighing. 

Virgil sits up suddenly, pulling away from Deceit's touch. He downs the coffee in one gulp, placing the empty mug on the counter beside him before picking his phone up and sliding it into his pocket. "Thomas is summoning me," he mumbles. 

Deceit cocks his head to the side,"Really? I thought you said he hated you,"

"He does," Virgil mumbles, sliding from the counter to the floor, his feet hitting the tiles. "He's not summoning me on purpose. Nevertheless, duty calls," he says with a sigh. 

Deceit frowns at the ground. "Good luck," he whispers. 

Virgil forces a smile before disappearing.


	3. Just Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self harm mention, self harm scars, past suicide attempt mention.

As soon as Virgil pops up into Thomas's living room, it's immediately apparent that he's not wanted. He appears in his usual spot by the stairs, the sleeves of his black hoodie tugged down over his hands as he glances up at the others, his disinterested expression already in place. 

Thomas and the light sides are all sat around a table he's never seen before, chatting amongst themselves as they point at things written in coloured markers on multiple sheets of paper. Roman notices him first, groaning loud enough to catch the attention of Thomas himself. "What's Anxiety doing here?" He grumbles, shooting Virgil a glare. 

Virgil clenches his fists. His nails dig into his palm, but he savours the pain. It grounds him, keeps him in this moment and not another one. Even as spots of blood well up from his skin, he doesn't stop. "Sup," he says, his voice monotone. 

"Hi Anxiety!" Patton exclaims, waving over at him with a big grin stretched across his face. It really looks as if the moral side is happy to see him… 

A tiny smile twitches the corners of Virgil's lips upwards. His tightened fists loosen somewhat. 

Thomas regards him warily and it appears as if he's about to say something before he's distracted by Roman. 

It's obvious to Virgil they're busy. He isn't even sure why he's still here. His whole body is tense, on guard, prepared for the worst to happen to him, whatever that may be. He knows he looks a mess, wearing clothes he slept in, eyeshadow striping his cheeks, but he doesn't care. 

"Anxiety!" Patton calls, jumping up from his chair,"Come help us plan a video, kiddo!" His brown eyes are bright, cheeks slightly flushed with excitement and gosh, he looks so genuinely ecstatic about it that Virgil just can't find it in his heart to say no. 

The anxious side joins the others and Patton brings another chair up to the table for him to sit on. He doesn't really like sitting on wooden chairs - he rather prefers Deceit's lap. Obviously he won't be able to sit on his boyfriend at the moment though, so he makes do with what he's given. 

Patton smiles at him, his cat hoodie sat over his shoulders. "Anxiety, have you been crying?" He asks gently, his voice soft. Concern melts into his expression, his protective tendencies beginning to show. 

Virgil shakes his head,"No," 

"You have been," Roman pipes up, staring at him from the other side of the table. "No need to lie, Anxiety. We're not blind," 

"Are you sure about that, Princey?" Virgil snaps. He tugs his hood back over his head again, feeling self conscious. 

Roman sighs, rolling his eyes. He turns to Thomas. "Honestly, I can't stand this guy. Why d'you keep him around?" He complains. 

Thomas frowns at him, before replying,"Roman, you're being a little harsh. Yes, I know Anxiety's not the happiest of sides bu-" 

"Not the happiest of sides? Just look at him!" Roman exclaims, turning to glare at Virgil again, clearly ticked off. "He ruins everything, Thomas. Everything. I just don't understand why we should put up with him," 

"Roman-" Logan begins, but is cut off. 

"Why won't you just leave Thomas alone? Can't you see what you've done to him?" Roman snarls, slamming his palms down on the table. 

Virgil's hands snap up to cover his ears instinctively and he winces. He doesn't like loud noises, especially sudden ones. "This is my job, Princey. It's what I do," He bites back, shooting his own glare in Roman's direction. "Those ideas won't work by the way," he mumbles, gesturing to Roman's ideas, scrawled across the sheets of paper in a multitude of colours. 

Roman groans, sliding his head into his hands. "My ideas never work," he mumbles, tone pitiful. 

"You know that's not true, Roman," Patton begins, fixing the creative side with an extremely parental look. "Your ideas are wonderful, each and every one of them!" 

Virgil shrinks into himself, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. He's unwanted, invisible. None of his opinions matter because they're bad. All he does is hurt people, Thomas, Roman, Patton… poor sweet Patton. Tears fill his eyes. He can't stay here any longer. "Bye, Pat," he whispers, turning away from the only light side who ever cared about him. He pushes the chair backwards and walks from the table. 

Patton glances in his direction, a worried expression on his face. He opens his mouth, about to speak, but Virgil just shakes his head. 

The others don't seem to have even noticed. That's the way it should be, he tells himself. He finds himself entering the kitchen, his eyes on his feet as he walks, one in front of the other. His cheeks are wet with tears. His chest hurts but he feels empty, utterly and entirely empty. He slowly moves across the cold tiles, vision blurring, there's too many tears in his eyes. His fingers find the handle of the cutlery drawer. He pulls it open, fixing the array of knives inside with dull eyes. He doesn't even know what he's doing. 

Patton's calling for him, but he doesn't care. He takes the sharpest knife he can find and leaves the kitchen, sinking down into his own room in the dark side's area of the mind space. He feels hollow. And to think, he almost felt happy up there sat next to Patton for a moment. "Stupid," he scolds himself. He locks his door, unable to stop shaking. Why can't he stop shaking? 

"You ruin everything, Anxiety. You're just a disorder, an infestation, a plague. You're just Anxiety. You're the bad guy," He mumbles, flopping down onto his bed, the knife still in hand. Be stares at it, mesmerised by how eerily beautiful he finds it. Why can't he stop hurting people, everywhere he goes? More tears leak out of his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. He wants- 

"No," He snarls, slipping the knife under his pillow. "No, Virgil. You promised Dee you wouldn't," he tells himself. He did promise Deceit, though when he'd done so he hadn't thought he'd be able to keep it. Oh, look at him now though. He's invincible…. He's doing so much better, yet he doesn't feel that way. He hasn't hurt himself in over a year, hasn't tried to kill himself in over two. This streak he has used to be something he was proud of, though now he just detests it. 

A knock on the door causes him to jump, thrown back into reality with a harsh jolt. "Virge, are you in there?" Deceit calls through the door, the concern in his voice evident.

He hurriedly wipes the tears from his face and stands up from the bed, moving to open the door. 

Deceit's face comes into view, his snake-like eyes wide with worry. He takes in Virgil's extremely disheveled appearance before saying,"I'm guessing it didn't go too well, right?" 

Virgil shakes his head. 

"D'you wanna watch a movie in my room?" Deceit questions, giving his boyfriend a gentle smile. 

Virgil blinks, his tear filled eyes sliding up to meet those of Deceit. "Is Rage letting us eat yet?" He mumbles, his voice shaky. 

"I don't think so," Deceit replies with a sigh,"I'm fucking starving,"

"Me too," Virgil answers, even though he isn't. He still feels numb and the thought of eating something right now just doesn't compute. 

Deceit seems to catch on - he is Deceit after all. He frowns, fixing Virgil with a very serious look. "Virgil, show me your arms," he orders, biting his lip.

Virgil rolls back the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing his pale scar covered arms, secretly glad he managed to refrain from using the knife. 

Deceit takes Virgil's scarred wrists in his hands, his touch gentle. His eyes skirt over the exposed skin for a few seconds before a sigh of relief exits him. 

"Are you done?" Virgil whispers after a few moments of silence. 

Deceit nods and lets go of the emo's wrists. "Was it Creativity again?" He whispers. 

Virgil tugs his sleeves back over his scars, nodding slowly. 

Deceit blows out a long sigh, his eyes sliding to the floor. "You're "not" scaring me, Virge. Are you ready to come watch a movie?" 

Virgil shrugs, wiping a stray tear away with his sleeve. "I'm ready as I'll ever be," he mumbles, exiting his room before closing the door behind him. 

Deceit takes Virgil's hand in his own, their fingers intertwining. They go to his room and close the door behind them.

Virgil picks up his purple fluffy blanket from the floor and wraps it around himself, snuggling up on top of the covers on Deceit's bed. 

Deceit unplugs his laptop from the charger beside the bed and joins Virgil, placing the screen in between the two of them. They begin to watch A Nightmare Before Christmas.

Virgil rests his head on Deceit's shoulder, his eyes burning with unshed tears.


	4. Everything is fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a little later than ‘usual’ oops. 
> 
> TW: Suicidal thoughts, self hate, general angst.

The rest of the day is spent lazing around, Virgil and Deceit watching movie after movie as they lie, curled up together on the double bed. After the fourth or fifth movie Deceit closes his laptop and places it on the bedside table on the left. "It's probably time for dinner," he mumbles, glancing at Virgil.

Virgil shrugs, tugging his fluffy blanket tighter around his thin body. "Probably," he whispers, frowning a little. The numbness he felt earlier seems to have melted away, leaving him with a feeling of misery. He's still not hungry though, something he should be a lot more concerned about. Right now, he couldn't care less. It's unlikely Rage will permit them in the kitchen today anyway, so he sees no point in thinking about it.

Deceit frowns and leans closer to his boyfriend. He touches his fingers to Virgil's forehead, drawing them down slowly along his hairline, smiling a little when the anxious side leans into the touch, his eyes slipping closed. "You're not okay, are you Virge?" He says, his voice very quiet and very sad.

Virgil opens his eyes, fixes Deceit with his best 'I'm fine' look and nods. "Stop worrying about me, Dee. I'm okay," His smile is so obviously pretend that it hurts.

"Bullshit, Virge," Deceit answers, moving away from the emo, tears shining in his brown and yellow eyes. He slides off the side of the bed, running his hand through his hair anxiously. He sinks his teeth into his lip, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "I'm seriously in love with you, Virgil," he whispers, his voice shaky,"The thought of losing you... " He trails off, covering his mouth with his hand as a sob escapes him.

"Oh shit, no. Don't cry, Dee!" Virgil exclaims, jumping up to wrap his arms around Deceit.

Deceit reciprocates the hug, pressing his face into Virgil's shoulder as the pesky tears slip down his face. "I'm "not" sorry," he murmurs.

Virgil tightens his grip around his boyfriend's chest, feeling more guilty than ever before.

_Look what you've gone and done, you monster. You've hurt the only person who loves you. You hurt everyone. Remember what you do to Thomas with every second of your pitiful existence. All you are is Anxiety, a disorder, a mistake. You are better off dead._

The two part, Deceit to wipe his eyes and Virgil to chew on the inside of his mouth. He stares at the floor, the hateful thoughts still swirling around in his head.

"I'm gonna go see if I can smuggle some noodles or something," Deceit announces, yawning loudly as he exits the room.

Virgil sits back down on the edge of the bed and the tears in his eyes brim over, leaving shining lines down his cheeks. He can't get Roman's words out of his head. They spin around and around, colliding with each other as they fight for dominance within the walls of his brain. The worst thing about it… well, Roman's right, every spiteful word is utterly correct and Virgil hates it, hates Creativity, hates himself.

He hates himself. He hates his pathetic excuse for a body, with his bony limbs and visible ribs. He hates his stupid voice, every idiotic word that leaves his mouth. He hates his own laugh, his own smile, even his own fucking breathing sounds irregular to him. He hates how ugly he looks when he stares at himself in the mirror. He hates how he walks, how he sings in the shower when he thinks no one's listening, how his off tune voice sounds mixed with the water hitting the bathroom titles. He hates his eyes, his ears, his mouth, his nose. He hates his long fingers and ink stained hands. He hates every thought he has and every thing he is. It hurts. It hurts to hate yourself like this. It gets to the point where you just don't know how to exist with these feelings, don't want to exist, where despite everything you can't stop the thoughts of ending your own life.

Virgil holds his head in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. He knows Dee will be back in a moment and he should stop crying, stop existing, cease everything just for once. "You're fine," he chokes out between sobs,"Stop crying you baby. You're fine," he tells himself,"You're fine…" Tears spill down his cheeks, tremors wrack his body, his breath hitching in his throat. He's not fine. This is not fine.

He crawls under the covers of the bed, tugging his fluffy blanket over his face as he cries. He doesn't want to be seen like this. He's a mess.

The door opens a few moments later and an excited Deceit rushes in, two plates of noodles in his hands. He kicks the door closed behind him. "Virge, I got food," he announces, moving to the side of the bed. "Virgil?"

Virgil presses his face into his blanket as a sob pushes itself out of him.

"Oh Virgil," Deceit sighs, placing the plates down on the bedside table. He sits down on the edge of the bed, feeling with his hand until he locates what he hopes his Virgil's back under the blankets. He begins to rub it in circles, hoping to bring some comfort to his upset boyfriend.

"I don't deserve you," Virgil whispers softly.

The words are barely audible, but somehow Deceit hears them. "Don't say that, Virge," Deceit says, leaning back against the pillows with a shaky sigh. "Do you want to talk about them… these thoughts you keep having?" He asks.

Virgil sits up, yanking the blankets from his head, revealing his tear stained face. "No. They're not really something you can talk about and I don't want to upset you. We've had this conversation before, Dee," he answers, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“Do you want some noodles?” Deceit asks, picking up one of the plates from the bedside table to hand to Virgil.

“Okay,” Virgil mumbles, taking the plate from Deceit with shaky hands. He leans back against the pillows, resting the plate on his lap.

Deceit joins him, placing his own plate in his lap also. They both have a fork each, no knife.

“M’sorry, Dee,” Virgil mumbles, twisting a few noodles around his fork slowly.

Deceit just nods, mouth too full of food to answer. He wasn’t lying when he said he was starving. He often is, what with Rage’s fickle moods. The both of them have just gotten used to being cautious around the other dark side, treading lightly where they can. They have it easy compared to Remus and Remy, who Rage seems to hate even more for some reason. If Virgil and Deceit are careful, they can avoid being seen by Rage for days, sneaking around the dark section of Thomas’ mind space. But Rage, he goes looking for the other two. He’s Rage after all, a side constantly irate, constantly looking to pick a fight with anyone who crosses his path. When he gets bored, he crosses other people’s paths instead.

Deceit snarfs down his dinner rather quickly, resting the empty plate on the bedside table once more.

Virgil takes longer, slowly and self-consciously putting tiny amounts of food into his mouth.It takes about half an hour before he’s finally done.

Deceit takes the empty plate from him and rests it on top of his own. He turns back to his boyfriend. “What d’you wanna do now, Virge?” He questions, stifling a yawn.

Virgil tugs his fluffy blanket over himself and leans in to give Dee a quick kiss on the lips. “What do you wanna do?” He repeats the question, looking his boyfriend in the eyes.

Deceit smirks,”You shouldn’t ask me that question, Virge,” his words run into each other, seemingly too sweet for Virgil to trust. He snakes an arm around the emo’s waist, tugging him closer.

Virgil giggles softly, looping his arms around Deceit’s neck.

Deceit kisses him like he’s done a thousand times before, presses them together, trying to fill any gaps between them. Virgil’s hands slide into his hair, tugging at it gently as they kiss and kiss.

They kiss until they have no breath left and then they sleep.


	5. Difficulties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a bit longer to write this again I apologise. 
> 
> TW: Self hate, thoughts of self harm, swearing, implied violence.

Virgil wakes up in Deceit's arms. The embrace is warm and comfy; he doesn't want to get up any time soon. He snuggles into Dee's chest, pressing a soft kiss against the fabric of his pyjamas.

Deceit yawns, sliding his arm upwards to stroke Virgil's soft purple hair delicately. "Morning, Virge," he whispers, rubbing his fingers into the emo's scalp.

Virgil lets out a purr - something he will defiantly be denying later. "Mmm," he mumbles, his eyes slipping shut.

Deceit chuckles, continuing to sift his fingers through his boyfriend's purple hair, massaging his scalp every so often. It calms Virgil and is a rather useful tactic when bringing him out of an anxiety attack. Deceit can tell he finds it pleasurable too if the sounds he's making are anything to go by. He can literally feel Virgil's chest vibrating with the force of the purrs. "You're such a cat, honestly.." He whispers after a few minutes of silence apart from Virgil's involuntary sounds.

"Shut up," Virgil mumbles, smiling despite himself,"I'm so blissed out I may pass out,"

"You wouldn't dare," Deceit replies, his tone humourous,"You've slept in late enough as it is," 

"Stop stroking my hair then," Is Virgil's sleepy reply.

Deceit moves his hand away, sitting up in the bed, causing a certain emo to whine at the movement.

"I was jus' fallin' asleep, Dee," he mumbles, pressing his face into Deceit's stomach.

"You're getting up, Virge. I'm starving," Deceit states, disentangling himself from Virgil's limbs as he slides out of bed, his feet hitting the carpet. He sways a little on his feet, a quiet,"Woah," escaping his lips. He shakes his head, hoping it'll make the dizziness dissipate.

Virgil groans, stuffing his face into the pillows. "Don't wanna.." He whines, words muffled by the fabric.

Deceit sighs and rolls his eyes. "Don't make me drag you outta bed," he threatens, glaring at Virgil in mock annoyance.

"Fine, fine," Virgil mumbles, sitting up on the mattress. He blinks his eyes blearily and covers a yawn with his palm. "M'tired, Dee," he complains, staring up at the other dark side with wide brown eyes.

"You say that every day," Deceit responds, rolling his eyes for the second time that morning. "Go put your eyeshadow on and I'll see if I can get us some breakfast," he instructs, gesturing to the door.

Virgil drags himself out of bed, his purple fluffy blanket still draped around his shoulders. As soon as his body flips upright he begins to sway just as Deceit had, his face suddenly pale.

"Hey," Deceit says, steadying him.

"Got lightheaded for a moment," Virgil mumbles, rubbing a hand across his face. "I blame Rage," he accuses.

Deceit nods,"Me too. Let's hope we're able to find something for breakfast. I swear he's trying to kill us.." He grumbles, trailing off at the end of the sentence.

Virgil shrugs, the colour already returning to his cheeks. "I'll see you in five," he mutters, moving to leave the room, dragging his blanket behind him.

Once in his own room, Virgil deposits his blanket on top of his bed and moves to find his stores of eyeshadow. He has one rainbow palette (a gift from Patton) and the rest are all dark colours. Blacks mostly, though a few greys, crimsons and purples. He picks up his small mirror in one hand, deciding to apply his favourite black palette. He flips it open with his free hand from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He swipes the black dust under his eyes, creating his usual effect. He then closes the palette and places it back in his stash, satisfied with his work.

He's about to leave when a sudden thought hits him. He finds himself by the headboard of his bed, snaking his hand under his pillow to locate what he's looking for. He brings out the knife, staring with wide eyes at it. What's he doing? He isn't sure anymore. His skin tingles. He wants- He needs-

He shoves the knife back under his pillow, feeling frustrated. "What are you doing, Virgil?" He asks himself, blowing out a long frustrated sigh. He should've known better, should've realised that every piece of happiness he experiences is short lived, a taster of something he will never ever have. He shouldn't feel so disappointed each time the positivity fades into negativity; he saw it coming miles away. 

He stands up and leaves his room, pushing the thoughts down within him as much as he can. He feels extra on edge without Deceit by his side. Fear of running into Rage again has him walking faster, curled into himself, prepared to defend himself from any oncoming attack. He reaches the door leading into the living room and twists the handle with shaking hands. The door creaks open and he slips inside, his heart hammering in his chest. 

The room isn't empty. Remus is slouched on the large couch closest to the TV, a fast asleep Remy splayed across his lap. He's got an arm around the sleeping side in a slightly possessive manner, but his eyes are on the practically muted TV. He hasn't noticed Virgil yet. 

Virgil sits down on the couch next to them, glad that Rage is nowhere to be seen. "Hey, Rem," he says, glancing at the dark side next to him.

Remus flinches, wide eyes fixed on the anxious side as if waiting for him to mutate. He visibly relaxes once realising it's only Virgil. "Virgie," He replies, flashing the emo a rather flirtatious grin. That's the thing with Remus, he flirts with all of the dark sides (except for Rage of course) despite Deceit making it very clear that Virgil belongs to him and him alone. 

"Have you seen Dee?" Virgil questions, decidedly ignoring the fiery look in Remus' eyes. 

"He and Rage are in the kitchen," Remus replies, is voice suddenly going quiet. 

"What?" Virgil demands, his eyes widening as panic blossoms in his chest. Rage is the scariest of the sides he knows - there are some he doesn't know about or hasn't met, but they usually skulk in the shadows' shadows, hidden from most. Fear of them has stopped him from sleeping many a night. But Rage is tangible, here, a constant reminder that they are all the bad guys, the evil sides cast away from the rest of Thomas's mind. And Rage is a monster, a violent simmering volcano, constantly waiting for the tiniest thing to set him off, and when he's set off, his eruption leaves permanent damage. This specific damage, it hurts. 

"Shh, Remy's sleeping," Remus hisses, gesturing to the embodiment of sleep who is literally asleep in his lap. The guy doesn't even stir.

Virgil nods, chewing on his lip. The sound of slightly muffled shouting coming from the kitchen steels his resolve. He stands up, careful not to block Remus' view of the TV and approaches the door to the kitchen. Fear coils inside of him like a snake, squeezing the air from his lungs. He twists the doorknob, frowning when nothing happens. He jiggles it up and down, kicks at the wood, but it doesn't budge. The door is locked. 

"Oh god," he gasps, kicking at the door again. The angle sends him reeling, hopping up and down while clutching his stinging foot. "Let me in!" he exclaims, pounding on the door with his fists repeatedly. Who cares if he gets splinters stuck in his knuckles? 

He can hear them shouting through the thin wall. "What did I fucking tell you the other day, Deceit?" Rage roars. Something smashes on the floor, probably a plate or something. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?"

Virgil flinches, covering his mouth with his hands as tears burn in his eyes. He kicks at the door again. "Let me in," he begs. 

'"I'm s-sorry, Rage, but Virgil and I have to eat, you know? We c-can't control that I'm afraid," comes Deceit's pitiful reply. He sounds scared, genuinely scared and this realisation hurts Virgil like a slap across the face.

"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?" Rage bellows. 

Something bangs against the door, causing it to splinter a little.

Virgil whimpers.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it!" Rage shouts, "And if you don't your sweet little _boyfriend_ will pay the price. IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Yes," is the barely audible reply. 

Silence falls after that, a dead silence only interrupted by the the buzz of the TV in the background and Deceit's soft sobs. Virgil sinks down to the carpet, pressing his forehead against the cracked door. "Dee..?" he whispers, his voice shaky,"Are you okay?"

_Stupid question, you idiot. Of course he's not okay.  
_

When he receives no reply Virgil knocks his knuckles gently on the door. "Dee?" he mumbles, tears blurring his vision. This is all his fault, isn't it? 

After a few minutes of listening to Deceit's sobbing, the sound finally cuts off, replaced by the sound of shuffling. A second later he hears the lock click and the door swings open, revealing a very dishevelled looking dark side. His eyes are watery and his cheeks are painted with tears. His hair is a mess, matted at the side with something red that looks suspiciously like blood. 

Virgil flings his arms around him, pressing his face into Dee's chest as tears leak from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

Deceit's trembling slightly, but reciprocates the hug with a wince. "Not your fault, Virge," he whispers, clutching the anxious side close. 

Virgil pulls back from the hug, his eyeshadow running down his face. "Did he hurt you?" he whispers.

Deceit nods slowly.

"I'll fucking kill him," Virgil snarls, rubbing the tears from his cheeks,"The fucking monster..."

"Shh, I'm okay," Dee kisses Virgil's nose lightly, his pained expression hidden momentarily by one of love. 

Virgil blushes a little, the smallest smile twitching the edges of his lips. "Liar.." he breathes.


	6. Train wreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer to write. Quarantine sure is.. something.. heh. This chapter is kinda a mess but it's also a bit longer than usual so.. uh... yeah.
> 
> TW: Self hate, anxiety attacks, gets a little heated at one part.

After cleaning the wound Rage left on Deceit's head they join Remus and Remy in the living room. Remy is still asleep, which is a miracle if one ever existed. As soon as the two dark sides sit down, Remus turns to them with a worried expression on his face. "What happened?" he questions.

Deceit sighs, his eyes dropping to his lap. "Rage definitely "didn't" hit me," he answers. It's clear that the ordeal has him more shaken than he'd dare to let on. He's acting a lot more like Virgil - the embodiment of anxiety - than he is like himself.

"Well fuck him then," Remus replies angrily, pausing for a moment before grinning and adding," Literally," with a seductive wink.

Deceit rolls his eyes. Trust Remus to use gross images to try and cheer him up. He can't deny that it's helping a little, though.

Virgil wrinkles his nose and snuggles into Deceit's side. "You're disgusting, Rem," he mumbles.

Remus's smile only widens. "Why thank you, Virgil," he says, winking at the other.

Virgil chooses to ignore that and instead rests his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Are you okay, Dee?" He whispers, able to see through the other dark side's facade within moments. It's something he's learnt to do after all these years he's spent living with Dee.

Deceit nods, slinking an arm around Virgil's waist. His fingers not so subtly slip under the edge of his black hoodie, skimming the skin there.

Virgil blushes, his bright red cheeks only visible when the light from the TV grows especially bright. "What are you doing?" He questions, unable to stop a smile from taking over his face.

"I'm just sat here, Virgil, I don't know what you mean," Deceit replies nonchalantly, that signature twinkle in his eyes. The hand under Virgil's hoodie is gone.

The anxious side sighs very softly, the sound barely audible. He knows Dee's messing with him again; it's happened a gazillion times before and it never gets old. I mean, what did he expect when he agreed to go out with someone literally named 'Deceit'?

A few minutes later Deceit slips his hand under Virgil's hoodie again, his fingers teasingly dancing over skin, the suggestion of touch. When Virgil ignores him he decides to up his game. Deceit is always up for a little PDA. He tips his head a little and leans in to touch his lips carefully to Virgil's neck. Still nothing. He licks a stripe of skin across the other's neck, then sucks at it, nibbles at it until the skin is dark and red.

Virgil bites his lip, refusing to acknowledge Deceit or make a sound. They've played this game before, but this time he won't give Dee the satisfaction of winning. He keeps his attention fixed on the TV. Remus seems to have put on a rather gory movie including something that could be a zombie if you both squinted and imagined it had a head instead of the mangled remains of one.

Deceit leaves another mark on Virgil's neck, frowning to himself when the other still refuses to look at him. "Virgee~ " he whines, waving his hand in front of the anxious side's face.

Virgil bites his lip so hard he can taste blood. His skin tingles where Dee licked at it. He wants him to do it again. He wants them to be alone.

Deceit stands up, causing Virgil to look up at him, a perplexed expression on his face. "Where are you going, Dee?" He asks.

Dee takes Virgil's hands in his own and tugs him to his feet, his smile exuberant and a tad flirtatious. "We're going to my room," he announces, all but dragging the anxious side towards the door.

Virgil doesn't resist as Dee leads him through the dingy hallway towards their room. (It's still technically Deceit's room, but Virgil spends so much time in there they've thought about renaming it.) Dee pushes the door open and Virgil follows him inside, closing it behind him.

As soon as Virgil spins around to face him Dee pins him back against the door, pressing a sloppy kiss against his mouth. 

Virgil's eyes slip closed and he reciprocates the kiss with the same level of skill. Neither have much knowledge or experience with these kind of things, but it never stops them from trying. 

Dee licks into Virgil's mouth, deepening the kiss with something akin to a growl.   
His eyes are half lidded, his pupils blown wide with lust. 

Virgil tries his best, he really does, but they're just too close, everything's happening too fast he can barely think. He's lived most of his life touch-starved and this is the polar opposite. "Dee," he whines, grinding against Deceit in a pitiful attempt to gain friction. 

Dee backs up, his cheeks flushed red, eyes wide and unfocused. "Virge.. " he pants," Are you sure you're ready for ... that..?" 

Virgil slides to the carpet without Dee's support and even in his lax position against the door, his hard on his pretty visible. His eyes crack open, regarding his boyfriend with nervousness. He shrugs, blushing as the awkwardness washes over him," Sorry.." he mumbles, staring at the floor.

Dee bends down in front of him, leaning on his knees. "Virge, look at me," he whispers very softly.

Virgil looks up, his wide brown eyes immediately locking with Dee's different coloured ones. 

Dee takes Virgil's hands in his own, gently stroking his thumb over the other side's knuckles. "Listen to me Virgil, you don't have to apologise for anything when you're with me, okay? I'm not going to pressure you into anything if you're not ready for it."

Virgil smiles a little, blinking back tears. "Dee, I'm proud of you, you're being honest," 

Deceit beams at him and leans in to touch a little kiss to the tip of Virgil's nose. "It's so easy around you. I see no reason to lie," 

Virgil laughs, a genuinely happy laugh, one that makes his eyes close and his hair fall into his face. 

Dee brushes said hair away and touches his lips to Virgil's delicately, before pulling away, an awestruck look on his face. "You get more beautiful everyday," he murmurs, causing the anxious side to cover his face with his hands in embarrassment. "You should probably deal with that though," he adds, gesturing downwards," Unless you want me to," 

Virgil's blush only intensifies. "I'll.. uhh... go do it.." he mumbles, standing up a little shakily. He opens the door and slips out into the hallway, his cheeks practically on fire.

Deceit chuckles to himself, watching Virgil disappear down the hallway, heading for the bathroom. He takes a seat on his bed, opening up his laptop. Despite what many would think, Roman isn't the only one who can be creative. He opens up Adobe After Effects and sets to work on one of his mini projects. He never knows what he's doing when messing around on After Effects, playing with colours and videos and music, but it's fun and it passes the time. Who knew Deceit could be productive? His recent work includes the song Make me (cry) by Noah Cyrus, a song Virgil introduced him to. He sits back against the cushions on their bed, closing his eyes as the song starts, the lyrics forming visually inside his head. 

Virgil exits the bathroom, having dealt with his 'little issue'. On the way back to Dee's room, he makes a quick pit stop at his own to wipe off the eyeshadow that's staining his cheeks from crying earlier. He reapplies the eyeshadow and picks up his dark purple headphones before leaving. He never reaches Dee's room, however. As soon as he exits his own and closes the door behind him he feels the tug of being called into the real world. It's intentionally this time, as he can hear Patton's calls of 'Anxiety' reverberating through the mind space. He lets out a frustrated groan, not remotely prepared to show his face to the others. He's not in the mood to be called names today. He slips his headphones over his ears and takes his phone out of his pocket to plug them in at the bottom. He selects his extremely long spotify playlist (it lasts over 12 hours) of angsty songs before slipping his phone back into the pocket of his oversized hoodie. He lets out a shaky breath before closing his eyes and sinking down. 

As soon as he appears in Thomas's living room, he notices how different it looks. All the couches have been dragged over to where the TV is, lining the walls of that section of the room. Thomas sits on the middle couch, surrounded by the others. He takes a seat on the bottom stair in his usual corner of the room, unsure what he's supposed to do. 

It takes a few moments for Patton to notice him, but once he does he's extremely verbal about it. "Anxiety!" he exclaims, jumping up from his seat on the couch, his eyes bright with excitement. (Not that they're ever _not_ bright with excitement.) "Come over here, kiddo!" the moral side continues, a wide grin spread across his face.

Virgil winces as the loud shouts penetrate his headphones, stabbing into his eardrums like spears. He hates loud noises. He gets to his feet though, blinking away the fuzziness that fills his vision. He makes a mental note to thank Rage for that later. He slips his headphones off of his ears and frowns at Patton. "What?" he bites out, past caring about how mean he sounds.

Patton ignores his tone and continues smiling at him. "We need your help deciding between two ideas for the next video," he explains.

In the background, Roman rolls his eyes, clearly not happy whatsoever about Virgil's presence. 

Virgil sighs,"They both suck, you're screwed. That's what I think," Virgil replies, shoving his headphones back over his ears. Patton's overenthusiastic yells have only gone and given him a headache. He just wants to return back to Dee and go to sleep. "Can I go now?" he questions, sending a glare Roman's way. 

"See, I told you this would happen!" Roman exclaims, standing up too,"He hasn't even read my ideas and he's casting them aside! Why do you make us put up with him, Pat?" He turns to Patton, looking miffed. 

"I don't need to read your ideas to know they won't work, Princey." Virgil snaps, reclaiming his seat on the stairs. He wishes they'd all just shut up. 

"Well, I don't see you coming up with any ideas, _Anxiety_ ," Roman retorts, hands on his hips.

"That's not my job," Virgil replies, tugging his hood over his head. 

Roman laughs, a cruel, uncaring laugh," Right, of course. And what is your job again, Anxiety? Oh, I remember now, **torturing** Thomas every day with your stupid **paranoia** , hindering him from going out to parties and having fun, keeping him awake night after night with **senseless** **worrying**! Pardon me for expecting you to be helpful in any way!" 

Virgil bites his lip as Roman's shouts cause a stab of pain to shoot through his head. Patton's saying something now, but he can't make out the words. His head hurts. Everything is too loud, the others' voices, the buzz of the TV grilling into his skull and the whir of the air con in the corner. Even his own breathing is too fast and loud in his ears. He presses his palms against his headphones, shoving them as tightly as he can into his ears. Even his music is too loud. 

"Guys, stop!" Logan demands, "Something's wrong with Thomas," he explains, gesturing to their host, who seems to be in a similar position to Virgil with his hands clapped over his ears and his eyes screwed shut. 

Patton and Roman are by his side in an instant, unsure what to do. "What's wrong, buddy?" Patton questions, his voice considerably quieter.

"Too loud," Thomas whispers, his voice shaky and weak. 

"What's..." Roman begins, his eyes falling upon Virgil, curled up on the stairs, his breathing ragged and harsh. "Oh," he mumbles, realisation dawning upon him. He stands up, making his way over to the overwhelmed side. "What are you doing?" he questions, frowning at him in confusion and frustration. (Poor Roman doesn't really understand what's happening.) "What are you doing to him, Anxiety? Stop it!" he demands, the senseless words exploding out of him. 

"Shutupshutupshutup!" Virgil growls, bending over on the stairs, his eyes blurring with tears. He won't let them fall, he _won't_. He can't show weakness in front of them, but it seems he has little choice in the matter. His breath hitches, air eluding him as he struggles to inhale. His chest aches and his lungs feel as if they're constantly being squeezed, only it's becoming tighter and tighter with every passing second. 

"Stop shouting at him, Roman," Logan says, "You are not helping the matter," 

"He's hurting Thomas!" Roman protests, waving his arms in the air.

Patton has his arm around Thomas, whispering words of comfort to him as he begins to hyperventilate, his head resting on his knees as he trembles. "Logan," Patton gasps, his eyes wide,"I don't know what to do," 

Logan sighs and stands up, joining Roman in front of Virgil. He bends down, lowering himself to the anxious side's 'curled-up-on-the-stairs' level. "Anxiety, listen to me," he says, his voice relatively quiet but extremely steady. 

Virgil can't breathe. He's opening his mouth, gasping for air, but none comes. His ears are ringing, ringing, ringing and his heartbeat is deafening. A choked whimper escapes his lips. _He can't breathe._

Logan begins to count,"One, two, three, four, five, six.." 

Virgil squeezes his eyes even tighter shut, desperately trying to grasp onto the sounds he can hear. They're words, numbers even. He focuses on the numbers, steadily increasing past 100 as the pain in his chest begins to fade. 

"It's working," Patton announces, noticing that Thomas has begun to calm down.

Roman just watches with wide eyes, unsure whether he should pity Anxiety or blame him. 

Virgil can breathe again. His head is pounding and he feels shaky and slightly sick but it doesn't matter because _he can breathe_. He slowly lowers his hands from his headphones, wrapping them around himself as tears leak from his eyes, painting his cheeks with black. 

Logan finishes his counting, feeling a little uncomfortable. He knows how to calm people down from an anxiety attack, but not how to talk to someone after. "Are you alright, Anxiety?" he questions, unsure whether he should be talking to him or not. 

Virgil doesn't answer, just presses his face into his knees as he cries, refusing to acknowledge anyone else in the room.

Roman sighs,"Just leave him, Logan," he says, moving to join Thomas and Patton on the couch. He sits next to Thomas, a worried look on his face. "Are you okay now, Thomas?" he asks.

Thomas nods, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. His voice is weak when he says,"Yeah," 

Logan isn't sure how to comfort Anxiety, or if he should even be doing so, so he joins the others on the couch, feeling a little guilty. He's had his own experience with anxiety attacks in the past, surprisingly (not that he'd let the others know this) so he understands to some degree how Anxiety may be feeling. 

It takes Virgil a while to stop crying, but when he finally manages to he lifts his head up, opening his eyes. The bright lights assault him and he squints, groaning as he realises how intense his headache has become. Everything comes back to him all in a rush, Roman's cruel words, Patton's concern, Logan's counting and - his eyes grow wide as he realises what's just happened. He's just freaked out in front of all of the light sides. _He's hurt Thomas._ He's hurt the one person he's supposed to protect. Protecting Thomas is his job, the purpose of his existence. If he can't even do that... what the hell is he good for? 

The others don't even notice him sink out, as fresh tears spill down his cheeks. 


	7. The attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me ages to update! Last week was pretty shit, this week ain't much better but I tried to make this not too much of a vent. Online schools back up again so I might not be able to update as often as I want to. Ill try though. 
> 
> TW: Self hate, self harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt (kinda), mild gore (??maybe??I can't tell??)

Virgil appears on his bedroom floor. He's shaking, vision blurring with tears as quiet little sobs escape him. He pushes his fist against his mouth, trying desperately to silence himself. His teeth dig into his skin, drawing blood. He doesn't care. He's useless, totally and utterly useless. He's failed his job, failed Thomas, failed everything. Blood from his hand reaches his tongue, the metal taste oddly comforting. 

Roman's words spin perpetually around inside his head. Why is it that no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop messing up? Why is it that he's never good enough, never capable of doing what the others do? Why is it that he's Anxiety, just Anxiety, to them? Why is it that they don't care enough to ask his name? Why is it that he feels like a monster, like a waste of space, like the bad guy? That's all he is, when it comes down to it, isn't it? He's the bad guy, the enemy, the sort of revolting creature heroes like Princey defeat in fairytales. He's just a disorder. Thomas could literally take pills and make him disappear. 

Disappear. He wishes he could do that, fade away into nothing because his existence is a mess, a mistake, a ruin. Thomas would be so happy without him, and the others... they wouldn't have to deal with him. He isn't wanted, isn't needed. He's just a waste of space. He's better off dead. 

Virgil stumbles to his feet, entire body shaking, the tears still pouring from his eyes. He reaches his bed and slips his hand under his pillow, drawing the knife out. The handle feels cold and robust in his hand. It feels like it belongs there. He stares at the blade, biting his lip as another sob surfaces inside him. He needs to be quiet. Crying will only give him away and he doesn't want that. 

He draws back his sleeve, staring at the pale lines coating his arm in disgust. How dare they heal. How dare they fade. He deserves... deserves.. He slashes at his wrist with the knife, watching as blood wells up from the cut, streaking down his arm. Crimson dots the carpet. It's not deep enough. It's not good enough. 

He grasps the handle with both hands, flipping it so that the blade is pointed towards his chest. He forces a smile, a rather sardonic one at that, but still a smile. The blade is inches away from his body. He can't hold it steady; his hands are shaking too much. 

"I'm sorry, Thomas, that I couldn't protect you.. I've failed you," he whispers. His entire left arm is covered in blood. It's dripping all over the carpet. "I'm sorry, Dee," he sobs, squeezing his eyes shut. "Bye bye Virgil," he whispers, preparing to drive the knife into his chest. 

The door flings open, bending back on its hinges. Deceit comes rushing into the room, Remus and Remy behind him. 

Virgil opens his eyes and stares at them. "Don't come any closer!" He cries, his grip tightening around the handle of the blade. 

"Oh god," Remy gasps, having noticed Virgil's bloody arm. 

Deceit grows extremely pale. Tears fill his eyes and drip down his cheeks. "Virge, please, no," he begs, stepping forwards. 

"Stop," Virgil gasps out. He's shaking uncontrollably, it's a wonder he doesn't drop the knife. His gaze drops to the weapon in his hands, focusing on the crimson stains he's gifted it. Blood runs down his arm, the droplets coating his fingers with red. He just stares at it, the colour, mesmerised by it in the strangest way. What has he done? 

"Virgil," Deceit begs,"Give me the knife. You don't want to do this,"

Virgil just stares at the blade. He doesn't know what he wants anymore. He's just... done. Done with the light sides, with Princey's heartless words, with never being enough, with constantly screwing up, with himself, with breathing, with existing. He's just so done being Virgil. What does that even mean, 'being Virgil'? 

"Virge," Dee whispers, "Look at me,"

Virgil looks up at him. He feels numb. Every emotion he felt so strongly only mere moments ago has drained out of him, pooled on to the floor amidst his blood. He'd forgotten how much the pain helps. He focuses on Dee's eyes, on how beautiful they look. He doesn't seem to notice that Deceit is right in front of him now. All he can see are the beautiful tear-filled eyes staring back at him. 

Deceit takes the knife from Virgil and hands it to Remy. (Remus can't be trusted with things like that.) He lets out a sigh of relief with the knowledge that Virgil isn't at risk of stabbing himself now. "Virgil, will you let me take a look at your arm?" he questions, keeping his voice quiet so he doesn't startle the anxious side.

"O..okay.." Virgil mumbles, shakily stretching his arm out to his boyfriend.

Dee winces. Virgil's arm sports three gory gashes, harsh slashes that part his skin in a brutal way. They're deep, really deep. He sighs. "These need stitches, Virgil. Are you okay with that?"

"O..okay," Virgil repeats, his eyes unfocused.

"We're going to go to the bathroom now, okay?" Dee questions, wrapping a careful arm around Virgil before beginning to lead him out of the room. 

"I'll deal with this," Remy states, holding up the blood stained knife. 

"Ooo, I want that!" Remus exclaims, making an attempt at grabbing the blade from Remy's hand. 

"Stahp it, Remus," Remy says with a sigh, snatching the knife away from Remus' grabby hands. He rolls his eyes. He's a little shaken, which he should be, all things considered. Virgil was going to kill himself, would've killed himself if they hadn't intervened. He watches as Deceit and Virgil leave the room, his mouth forming a sad little line. 

Virgil doesn't know what's happening anymore. There's a soft hand on his back, gently pushing him along as he walks forwards, his movements robotic. He can hear someone talking to him in a gentle, beautiful voice but he can't make out what they're saying. The noise inside his head is too loud. It presses down upon him, a heavy weight filling up his mind. His thoughts are scattered about, generating at a speed he can't keep up with. Thought upon thought upon thought until it begins to hurt. 

Deceit leads a trembling and incoherent Virgil into the bathroom before seating him down on the floor, leaning against the wall. He doesn't trust Virgil's ability to stay conscious at this point. He just looks so vacant, as if he's unaware of the world around him and gosh, does this scare Dee. 

"Oww," Virgil whimpers, wrapping his arms around his head. Blood smears into his hair, dripping down his arm as the sudden action irritates his wounds. 

Deceit retrieves the medical kit from the cupboard beside the sink and moves to his side. "Virgil, baby, can I look at your arm again?" He questions, placing the medical kit on the floor beside himself. 

Virgil squeezes his eyes shut but obliges, removing his injured arm from his head so his boyfriend can look at it. 

Deceit takes Virgil's bloody arm in his hands, frowning as he inspects the wounds. Blood continues to well up from the cuts, the liquid shiny and vibrant under the glow of the bathroom lights. He grabs a towel and presses it against Virgil's arm, hoping it'll help stop the bleeding. 

Virgil winces, his eyes suddenly focusing on Deceit again. They're wide and full of fear. "D..Dee?" He stutters,"Hurts," 

Deceit sighs, his already shattered heart fracturing even more as soon as he sees Virgil's frightened expression. He uses his free hand to softly stroke the anxious side's purple hair. "I know, Virge, I Know. I can't let your arm keep bleeding like this, though." 

Virgil lets out a pained sound. "No. M'head hurts," he whines, pressing his eyes tightly shut again. 

Deceit touches a light kiss to the top of Virgil's head. "It's going to hurt a lot for a little bit, but then it won't," he moves down and touches a kiss to Virgil's nose. "It'll be over soon, I promise Virge," 

Virgil keeps his eyes squeezed shut until it's over, only opening them when his cuts are fully stitched up and cleaned, with perfectly sized bandadges plopped on top. He stares at his arm in fascination for a few moments before looking up at Deceit. "M'sorry," he whispers. 

Dee hugs him, pulls his anxious boi tight against his chest as tears begin to streak down his cheeks. "It's okay," he murmurs,"You just really scared me, is all,"

Virgil closes his eyes again as tears burn in them. "I'm sorry. I wasn't…. I …" he trails off as a sob catches in his throat and his breath hitches. 

Dee holds him even tighter, beginning to sob softly himself. "Shh," he whispers. 

Virgil presses his face into Deceit's chest and allows himself to break.


	8. Concern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took ages to update. Online school's a bitch.. I had a few different ideas on how to write this chapter, but I think this one works okay. Deceit is still called 'Deceit' in this book as it all is set before the latest episode, svs redux. (It blew me away I-) 
> 
> TW: Self hate, angst.

Within the light sides' section of the mind space, Patton, Logan and Roman reside in the main living room. The TV is on, filling the room with the high-pitched dialogue of a cartoon initially designed for a young audience. Colourful light spills onto the carpet, giving the impression of a rainbow. Patton sits in the middle of the couch, a light blue fluffy blanket loosely wrapped around his shoulders. His eyes are glued to the screen, wide open and excited. It's apparent how enthralled with the show he is. Roman is seated beside him, a sketchbook on his lap and a pencil in his hand. Half of his endless collection of coloured pencils and crayons litter the cushions next to him, having been discarded there in a rush as he switched colours. Logan sits on the adjacent couch, his eyes focused on the screen of the laptop resting on his legs. He's busy typing away, his fingers racing across the keyboard at dizzying speeds.

Patton reaches forwards to grab a homemade cookie from the plate on the table in front of him. He'd made them earlier this morning, hoping to coax Anxiety out of wherever his room is. After the situation around an hour ago, his plan no longer seems possible. Patton can't help worrying about what happened. Anxiety left in a rush before he could even look at him, leaving the moral side in a state of unease. Yes, the 'dark side' can be a little gloomy, but Patton enjoys his company more often than not and the sight of the other in such a state of distress hurts him. He slips the cookie in his mouth and bites at it a little sadly. These were supposed to be for Anxiety...

"You okay there Pat?" Roman questions, looking up from his sketchbook,"You look disheartened," 

"Me? I'm great!" he replies, shoving the remainder of the cookie in his mouth to avoid having to say more on the topic.

Roman's gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before he shrugs and returns to his work, his red colouring crayon fixed between his fingers. 

"What are you drawing?" Patton asks, leaning over a little to get a better look at the sketchbook. He's always admired Roman's artwork, which is more than he can say about the Prince himself. Roman constantly criticises everything he creates, claiming it 'could be better.' He often pulls all-nighters in order to perfect a piece. 

"It's supposed to be me riding a dragon.. but I can't get the face right," Roman complains, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

Patton looks at the paper. It looks amazing to him, every detail on the dragon's face outstanding and perfectly in proportion. It's shaded mostly red and orange (Roman's most used colours) apart from the blue streak of sky and the vibrant swirls of green in the fiery eyes. He can't help the little gasp that escapes him as he sits there in awe. "Ro, it's phenomenal!" he exclaims, fixing the creative side with a wide grin. 

"Right.." Roman grumbles, picking up his overused eraser to fix some of the pencil lines outlining the beginnings of a figure seated on the dragon's back. 

"Can you draw me too?" Patton asks, wiping the crumbs from his mouth onto his sleeve. 

Roman nods, retrieving a blue crayon. "Don't expect it to be any good,"

Patton smiles. "Ro," he says, touching his hand to the other's shoulder,"You know that doesn't matter to me."

Roman sighs, pushing the sketchbook from his lap. He stares down at his hands, his mouth etched into a small frown. Guilt winds its way into his expression. "Pat... did I overreact today? With Anxiety I mean?"

"I.." Patton trails off, preventing himself from answering with a 'yes.' Roman did overreact a little. He can't deny it, though he feels vocalising it will do more harm than good. "It was a frightening experience, kiddo. I think we all acted a little out of turn," he replies carefully, resting his hand on top of Roman's. 

"Actually Patton, if Roman had been more educated in the situation, I believe he would have responded differently and more effectively," Logan speaks up, fixing them with a stare devoid of emotion. 

"Lo, now's not really the-" Patton begins, but is cut off. 

"In fact, he responded in the worst possible way, given the circumstances. For someone experiencing an anxiety attack, shouting is both insensitive and unproductive. It is highly likely your outbursts only worsened his panic," Logan continues, closing his laptop with a snap. 

"I.. I didn't realise he was having an anxiety attack," Roman answers, glancing up at Logan, his expression sad. 

"That was evident, Roman," Logan quips, his eyes cold.

Patton searches the face of Logic, looking for any hint of emotion, a sign that he's not just relaying facts once more, that a part of him genuinely cares. He finds nothing. 

Logan stands up, clutching his laptop in a white knuckled grip. He leaves the room without saying a single word more, praying no one catches the tiniest of cracks in his mask of apathy. He returns to his room and locks the door. Negativity threatens to consume him, but he pushes it down, shoves it away within him, presses past the invisible wall of emotions. He collapses into the chair at his desk, ignoring the tightening in his chest, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes, ignoring the whirlwind of unnamable feelings behind his skin. As long as he keeps them inside him, keeps the sobs in his throat, prevents the emotions from spilling out of him, then it's okay, he's doing good. No one needs his problems on top of theirs'. He sets his laptop down and opens it up, ready to resume his work with trembling hands. 

*

Once the crying has subsided, Deceit leads Virgil into the room they share for the majority of the time. The bed is messy and unmade, the sheets bunched at the end, tangled with their different coloured blankets. Virgil curls up on his side of the mattress, tugging Deceit's yellow fluffy blanket over him. His own is a little too far away. 

Deceit slides into bed next to Virgil, who immediately cuddles up to him, burying his face in Dee's neck. The vaguely ticklish feeling of warm breath against Deceit's neck has him smiling slightly. "Virge, we need to talk about what happened.." He says, yanking at the corner of his own blanket and pulling it over himself so that they're sharing it. 

Virgil makes a frustrated sound into the skin of Deceit's neck. "Don't wanna," He murmurs, slinking his arms around his boyfriend under the soft layer of the blanket. 

"Virgil," Deceit says, sighing as he fixes his gaze on the adorable dark side currently clinging to him possessively. He ruffles soft purple hair with a concerned look. "I need to know why you felt that doing... that.. was the only option, okay?" He continues, ignoring the prick of tears in his eyes as images from earlier that day resurface in his mind. 

"I... " Virgil begins, trailing off, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn't- He can't-

"Hey, It's okay, Virge. Take your time," Deceit whispers. 

The kindness Dee is showing him makes Virgil want to cry. He doesn't deserve the other side. He doesn't deserve love, or happiness, or respect or friendship or life. "I don't..." He begins, his voice quiet and muffled, still speaking into his boyfriend's neck,"I don't deserve to live, Dee. All I do is ruin everything. I'm supposed to protect Thomas and all I ever do is make him miserable," 

Deceit hugs him tighter, cradling the trembling anxious boi closer into his chest. "Virge, I'm Deceit. I know what's lie and what's not. Now that is just simply not true," he replies.

"It is!" Virgil exclaims, tears welling up in his eyes,"I started freaking out and made Thomas have an attack and now they all hate me even more!" He exclaims, pressing his face into Deceit's chest as a sob chokes out of him.

"Virge, they don't matter. They're dicks, okay? Especially Roman. God, I wish they'd see that the world isn't black and white, good or evil. They're stupid, Virgil. They ridicule you for being something they made you into. Nothing about that is right or fair," Deceit replies, beginning to stroke his fingers through Virgil's hair as he holds him close, protecting him. He doesn't want his Virgil to be hurt, doesn't want him near the others. Who knows what they'll do to him? 

"I can't do this anymore.." Virgil gasps out, clutching onto Deceit's chest, his fingers digging into yellow fabric,"I _can't-_ "

"You don't have to," Deceit replies.

"Can I just duck out like that?" Virgil asks, his grip around Dee loosening as he lifts his head up to stare into wide open eyes.

Deceit nods, leans down to press a kiss to Virgil's head,"If you want to,"

Virgil scrubs at his eyes, staring at the black smears coating his knuckles. "I want to,"he whispers, so softly it's barely audible.

"Okay,"


	9. How to duck out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bAcK  
> I'm hoping I'll be able to yeet regular updates out cause I finally feel like I can work on this story again. Apologies for how long it's been. 
> 
> Tw: Blood, injury, swearing, violence, abuse, panic attacks, self harm, mention of past suicide attempts. 
> 
> This sounds so bad I-
> 
> Please don't hate me for the angst in this chapter -

'Ducking out' as they call it, seems to be far easier than it should. Virgil just focuses long enough to disconnect himself from Thomas and that's it, connection severed. _No more hurting Thomas_ , he thinks. He glances up at Deceit, eyes a little wide. "I.. I did it," he whispers, shifting where he resides beside his boyfriend so he can face the other. 

Deceit gives him a look, one that could be sad or just thoughtful. Sometimes it's difficult to tell what he's feeling as he's just so good at hiding it, masking it behind whatever expression he wants the world to see. "As long as you're certain this is what you want to do," he says. 

Virgil rolls his eyes. "It's a bit late for me to change my mind now, isn't it?" He retorts, looking away, his eyes finding the comforting sight that is the mess of sheets in front of him. He doesn't know when Deceit's bedroom - because it is Deceit's, isn't it? - became such a calming place for him. It just did. 

"Because I totally know how that works," Dee replies, moving to grab his phone from beside him. 

Virgil glances at him but doesn't say anything. He rests back against the pillows of Dec- their bed with a sigh, closing his eyes. He knows he'll regret it but he allows his mind to wander. 

Memories surface inside him, images of the light sides, of Patton in particular, of his painfully happy face. The moral side is probably the only one who'd care about him ducking out. Perhaps he has it all wrong. Perhaps Patton doesn't really like him, he's just too nice to express that. Virgil frowns. How could he be so stupid? Of course Patton doesn't care about him. None of them do. 

He rolls over so he's facing away from Deceit as tears form in his eyes. He's so done wth crying. That doesn't seem to matter to his body though as it appears these days he barely does anything but cry. The tears drop onto the yellow pillow under his head soundlessly. He opens his eyes a little to stare at the bare wall directly across from him. 

Deceit seems to realise something is wrong - how is he so good at noticing these things? - as he moves to pet Virgil's hair gently, his fingers sifting through his purple strands. 

Virgil closes his eyes once more, trying to lose himself in the sensation of fingers in his hair. He needs some sort of distraction, even if it's not the desired one - he promised Dee he wouldn't do it again, didn't he? - from the all consuming feeling of emptiness inside him. He feels hollowed out like he's a pumpkin at Halloween and someone wants to make him into something frightening. But this is the problem, isn't it? He's already frightening enough. 

He thinks back to earlier on when he stood in his room with the blade pointed to his chest. He remembers the way it felt in his hand, how it seemed to fit inside the cage of his fingers like it was made for the soul purpose of ending Virgil's life. Without realising it, he's pressed on the wrapped up wounds under his hoodie sleeve with his fingers, hard. Hard enough to gift him with a rush of pain. He feels disgusted with himself yet he's half tempted to press harder, to dig his fingernails into the already damaged skin hiding behind the cloth and the bandage. 

"Virgil," Dee begins softly, his arms encircling around him. 

Virgil blinks, freezing in place. "Yeah?" He responds, his voice quiet. 

"Don't do that," Deceit tells him, manoeuvring into a position where he can take Virgil's wrist and carefully move his hand away from his wounded arm. 

Virgil allows Dee to move his arm away. He doesn't say anything, only rolls over a little to face the other side again. It's in that moment when he realises how truly exhausted Deceit looks. He's leaning pretty heavily against the bed, his hands trembling just a little. His eyes look like they are definitely begging to close. It occurs to Virgil only now how hard the past few days must have been on Dee. Sure, Virgil slept with Deceit but... he couldn't exactly find out how much of that time Dee actually spent sleeping if he was fast asleep himself, could he? 

As if to prove his point, Deceit yawns, moving his hand to sleepily stroke at Virgil's hair again. 

The corner of Virgil's lips twitch upwards a little. "You need sleep," he states, leaning into Dee's touch. 

"I don't," Deceit responds, wrapping the blanket around them tighter. 

Virgil raises an eyebrow, taking in the strangely wholesome sight that is a sleepy Deceit. "You're usually better at lying than this," He says, shifting into a lying down position before turning on his side to face Dee. 

Deceit doesn't even protest, just snuggles up to Virgil, his arms tightening around the anxious side. He presses his face into Virgil's shirt with a quiet hiss. 

Virgil manages a smile at that, reaching to nudge Dee's phone out of the way so they don't end up smooshing it into the blankets. "I'm sorry," Virgil whispers, cuddling into Deceit,"I ... I scared everyone earlier, didn't I?"

Deceit grips him tighter, bordering possessive. "I /wasn't/ scared," he whispers,"You tried to kill yourself.. that's not... " he trails off, a sad sound escaping him,"I /wasn't/ terrified," he whispers. 

Virgil sighs. "I really am a shit person, aren't I?" He mumbles, half to himself, half to the sleepy dark side clinging to him. 

Deceit shakes his head, the movement jostling Virgil's arm a little. He doesn't say anything more for a few minutes and Virgil realises that he's fallen asleep. He closes his own eyes in the hope of following the other side but he has a feeling he won't be so lucky. 

-

When Deceit opens his eyes the first thing he realises is that he's hungry. He groans quietly, blinking repeatedly to rid the blurriness from his vision before manoeuvring into a sitting position on his bed. 

A hiss to his right causes him to jump and he glances down in time to catch the irritated face of a tired Virgil who's been trying to sleep too long without success glaring up at him. "Why'd you move..?" He questions, pouting at Dee with what has got to the the most adorable look. 

"I'm starving," Deceit responds, pushing the blanket off of him so he can slide off the bed. As soon as he stands up a wave of dizziness engulfs him and he lifts his hand to his head, swaying precariously as he waits for the coloured dots sprinkled across his vision to go away. 

When he finally steadies himself and glances back to the lump of Virgil still snuggled under the blankets he grins. 

Virgil just stares at him with a mildly concerned look. "Well that certainly wasn't good," he remarks, moving - albeit sluggishly - to disentangle himself from the heap of blankets holding him down. It takes him a moment but soon he's sat on the edge of the bed, carefully easing himself into a standing position in the hopes he won't pass out. 

Deceit watches Virgil carefully as the anxious side stands up and tips forward a little before righting himself again. He avoids Dee's look before moving to open the door. 

Deceit follows him, stifling a yawn with his hand as he walks. He's feeling awfully tired these days. It could be lack of food and sleep but honestly he isn't as bothered as he knows he should be. Whatever, it's not like he can die from being overtired or anything now, is it? 

The two make their way to the living room and it's adjoining kitchen, keeping an eye out of any signs of Rage. Running into him is something neither of them need right now. 

It appears life doesn't care what they want or need as the sound of shouting can be heard bleeding through the walls as they approach the door to the living room. Unmistakably Rage. 

Virgil shrinks closer to Dee's side, his hand gripping the other sides' tight enough to hurt. He doesn't know if he can take any form of yelling right now, whether it's directed towards himself or not. 

The two pause outside the door, trying to gauge what's going on inside the room without having to actually go inside and look for themselves. 

Rage is ranting. It's obvious he's ranting as his words are sticking together, long strings of irate sentences spewing out of him at a force that could match anyone in the mind space. 

Deceit swallows thickly, nervousness overcoming him. They need food. They're gonna have to go in there at some point but Rage is in there and the last time he tried to get food and Rage caught him he ended up with a bleeding head. It's understandable that he's not too keen to have a repeat performance. 

Remus is speaking to Rage and Deceit realises with a jolt that Remus is crying, he's got to be. The words are coming out all wrong and choked and he keeps letting out a quiet sob every few moments. Dee scans the door, noticing that it's open a crack. He moves to press himself against the wood, giving himself a perfect view through the crack. 

Virgil watches from behind, trembling slightly. "Dee.." he whispers anxiously,"Please don't get caught.."

"I won't," Deceit mouths before turning his attention to what he can see through the crack. 

Remus is curled up on the couch, his arms wound protectively around himself. His nose is bleeding but he doesn't seem to take any notice, even when it's clear the blood is getting in his mouth as he tries to speak. 

The outline of Rage advances, body practically rippling with anger. He's in front of Remus in a second with his fist raised ready to-

Deceit looks away quickly as he hears the unmistakable sound of Rage's fist colliding with Remus' face. 

Well, fuck. 

Remus whimpers and Deceit tries a glance back through the crack, a sick feeling spreading inside of him. 

Rage storms towards the kitchen and he hears the door slam close. 

As soon as the monster is out of sight he sees Remus bury his face in his knees with a muffled cry. 

Deceit sighs and pushes the door open quietly, motioning for Virgil to follow him with a whisper of 'he's in the kitchen now'. 

Virgil nods stiffly and follows Deceit into the living room, his face pale and eyes wide. 

The two approach Remus carefully, both unsure how to handle the situation. Remus is always doing strange things to himself that could definitely be considered worse than being punched ... yet they're not the same. Everything he does he has control over and he can stop any time he wants to. Rage? No, Rage keeping at it and at it until it leaves Remus feeling shattered. 

Deceit touches a hand to Remus' shoulder, wincing when the other side jumps, his head snapping up. He stares at Deceit with wide red-rimmed bloodshot eyes for a few seconds before he lets out a breath. "Dee," he says, voice unnervingly quiet. 

"Re, d'you wanna get out of here?" Deceit asks softly, gesturing to the hallway outside. 

Remus just nods, allowing Deceit to help him up and wipe the fresh tears from his cheeks. He doesn't protest as Dee leads him back to his own room, Virgil following beside them, trembling as if he's seen a ghost. Honestly, Rage is a thousand time worse. 

Virgil enters Deceit's room before the other two and takes a seat on top of the bin in the corner, chewing on his nails nervously. He watches as Dee leads Remus to the bed and sits him down before disappearing and returning a moment later with a medical kit. He focuses on the hisses Remus makes as Deceit stitches up his wound and tries to calm his breathing. He can't have an attack right now. He's not even the one who's been hit, why is he like this? He inhales shakily and lets out a broken exhale, his chest constructing painfully as he does so. Why can't he take in enough air? He drops his head into his hands, unable to stop the wheezing sounds from leaving him as he struggles to keep himself calm. 

Deceit seems to catch on but since he's in the middle of stitching Remus' skin back together there's not much he can do. "Virge," be says. 

Virgil makes a strangled sound of affirmation. 

"Take deep breaths for me, okay?" Deceit continues, keeping an eye on Virgil from the corner of his eye as he finishes up Remus stitching. 

Virgil nods, trying his best to do as Dee requests. 

"Ooo am I gonna have a scar?" Remus exclaims excitedly, tilting his head to the side with an almost too wide smirk. 

Deceit nods, sighing fondly. "Of course you'd care about that.." he mumbles, moving to pack away the medical equipment. 

"It hurts," Remus states, somewhat less enthusiastic. 

"It's /not/ going to for a while," Dee responds, giving Remus a quick once over with his eyes. 

Re looks significantly better without blood gushing from his nose and the wound nice and stitched up but still... he looks... frightened. Seeing Remus frightened is a sight Deceit has never seen before and one he definitely does not want to see again. 

Dee stands up to go check on Virgil. 

Virgil glances up at him as he approaches and a shaky hand goes to wipe a stray tear from his cheek, tracing. Line of black across his skin. 

Deceit sighs and moves to do the job himself, resorting to using his sleeve to wipe the smear of black from Virgil's face. 

"How're you feeling?" Dee asks gently, not sure what the answer will be. 

Virgil exhales shakily, his eyes moving to his hands where Dee can see the bleeding crescent moon shapes littering his palms. He must've dig his nails into his hands when he was distressed. Virgil takes a while to answer but when he finally does he manages a quiet,"...better.." 

Deceit nods, then glances back at Virgil's hands. "Can I have a look at your palms, Vee?" He asks. 

Virgil nods slowly and offers them up to him, allowing Deceit to take his scarred wrists in his hands and turn them over slowly to get a view of his palms. 

Virgil feels uncomfortable. He can see the unmistakable thick white line running across the seam of his wrist; a previous suicide attempt from a few years back. It makes him feel strange to think about so he pushes the thoughts away hurriedly and focuses on the feeling of Dee's fingertips grazing his skin. 

After a moment Deceit sighs and presses a tender kiss to the scar on Virgil's wrist. "Try not to do that," he whispers, gesturing to Virgil's palms. 

Virgil nods. He will try. It's just sometimes the pain is the only thing that can ground him and remind him that he's not careening out of control. "I'll try.." He mumbles, his gaze dropping to the floor. He pauses to think for a moment before asking,"Is Remus okay?" 

Deceit glances over at Remus who seems to be trying to eat frame of the lamp shade which - how the he'll did he get that down - now bares multiple bite marks. Dee shrugs,"With Remus its so /easy/ to tell," he responds. 

Virgil nods, then frowns. "I'm still starving, how 'bout you?" He asks. 

Deceit groans. "Don't talk about food or I swear I /won't/ eat my hand," he replies. 

Virgil smiles. "Can we watch a movie?" He asks, moving to launch himself from the bin lid into a standing position. He walks over to the bed and collapses on top of the blankets. 

Deceit nods and turns to Remus who's holding the torn up parts of their lampshade, a piece of it literally caught between his teeth. Oh. It's like that then, is it? "Re, want to watch a movie with us?" He asks, moving to join Virgil on the bed. 

"Oooo, as long as there's murder!" Remus exclaims, discarding the ruined lampshade to the carpet before jumping onto the bed. 

Virgil jolts with a squeak, not expecting to have a Remus land beside him. 

Remus just grins and wiggles around until he finds a comfortable position lying on is stomach between Virgil and Dee. 

Deceit rolls his eyes but shoots Virgil a smile. The anxious side won't have to join the lights in any videos now that he's well and truly 'ducked out' and disconnected from Thomas. They'll have so much more time for cuddling later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll check for typos later cause it's nearly 2am.


	10. Half asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and perhaps the one after will be quite uneventful because the ones after won't be. 
> 
> TW: Thoughts of self harm, food. Really bad metaphors-

It's mostly dark. When Deceit opens his eyes he has to squint to see anything in front of him. He shifts into a sitting position carefully, trying his best not to jostle the sleeping form of Virgil curled into his side. He can hear Remus' snoring from the other side of the bed. Why is-

Oh. They were all watching movies and must've fallen asleep. He feels around the covers and sure enough, there is his iPad lying face down on top of the blankets. He frowns and moves it away from the other two, placing it on the bedside table to the left. 

His stomach rumbles and he sighs quietly, realising how hungry he is. He and Virgil hadn't even been able to sneak anything earlier, too preoccupied with not getting caught by Rage and managing to help Remus. He carefully pries Virgil's arms off of him and slides out of bed as silently as possible. 

Virgil mumbles something, curling into a ball without Dee to hold onto. He doesn't wake up. Good. Deceit doesn't want to deprive him of the sleep he clearly needs. First of all, it wouldn't be fair. Second of all, Virgil is grumpy if he's woken up before he's ready. 

He picks his phone up from the bedside table and turns it on, using the dull light it provides to help him navigate across his room and find the door. He opens it and slips outside, closing it gently behind him. He glances around him warily, unsure whether Rage will be still up. He probably isn't but there's a small possibility he could be and Deceit really really doesn't want another run in with him anytime soon. Preferably never, though he knows there's no chance he'll be that lucky. 

He makes his way through the dimly lit hallway towards the living room. The lights are off so he flips them on and closes the door just in case. The room looks barren at this hour with nobody inhabiting it. The tv screen is black, the thin layer of dust coating it ever so slightly visible. There's only the couch, a few armchairs and the tv. No decorations, no paintings or wallpaper. Nothing. Just a grey carpet and black walls. 

"Huh. We really live here.." he mutters, moving towards the kitchen. He feels a little lightheaded, probably from dehydration or something. He enters the kitchen and flips on the lights, squinting at their initial brightness, then moves to the cupboards. He opens and closes a few, frowning when he doesn't find much. He stumbles across half a loaf of bread and decides to make himself a cheese sandwich.

Once he's finished making the sandwich he checks his phone. 3:12am. Being awake at this time in the morning - assuming you're the only one conscious - is always an experience. He pours himself a glass of juice and returns to the living room. Flopping down against the couch cushions, he notices something. There's a small crack in the ceiling, a thin jagged line cutting across the otherwise even paint. He's never noticed that before. He takes a bite of his sandwich, moving to stare at the blank screen of the tv. 

He's tired. The kind of tired that buzzes inside of you like a faulty electricity cable, that makes you want to sink into the floor because your limbs feel heavier than lead. The kind of tired where your eyes ache and your vision is invaded with static, but every time you close your eyes unconsciousness just refuses to take you. 

He's not had as much practice being paranoid as Virgil has, so he guesses this is why it seems that much harder to keep up with. Virgil is paranoid even if there is no threat. He was paranoid from the day he shuddered into existence in the corner of the mind place all those years ago. The Lights weren't inviting, so in a way it was justified. 

Deceit finishes his sandwich and downs the remainder of his juice before placing the glass down. He curls into himself, wishing he'd brought a blanket or something. That's the thing about the Dark Side of Thomas' mind: it's cold, the kind of annoying cold that isn't as bad as freezing but isn't quite warm enough either. He nestles into one of the grey cushions and closes his eyes, knowing it's futile to expect sleep and just as he suspects, it refuses to arrive. 

-

The first thing Virgil notices when he wakes up is that Deceit is gone. He whines quietly, clawing at the empty space where his boyfriend should be but isn't as if he can dig into the fabric and suddenly find him buried underneath. He opens his eyes to the almost blackness of the room and manoeuvres into a sitting position, the blankets tangled around his legs.

"Dee..?" He whispers, looking around anxiously. 

The only response he receives is Remus rolling over in his sleep with a soft sigh. 

He knuckles at his eyes tiredly, coming to the realisation that Deceit isn't in the room. Did Rage take him? The idea produces a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He can't bear the thought of anything happening to Deceit. 

He slides out of bed, wrapping the closest fluffy blanket he can find around his shoulders before heading into the hallway outside. He's so tired he almost trips on the blanket around five times by manages to stop himself from falling flat on his face. 

When he opens the door to the living room and slowly steps inside, he can feel his heart thudding in his chest as if he's been running for miles. He immediately meets the gaze of a very wide-eyed and sleepy looking Deceit. 

Virgil pauses for a moment, allowing his heartbeat to calm the fuck down before walking over and sitting down next to Dee. 

"Hi Virge," Deceit mumbles, wrapping an arm around Virgil,"Why are you up?"

Virgil tucks his head into the space between Deceit's shoulder and neck, making a sleepy sound. "You were gone.." he mumbles, snuggling up to Dee. 

"I /wasn't/ hungry," Deceit replies, gesturing to the empty glass and plate,"I had a sandwich. You should probably get one too," he remarks. 

"What if Rage is in there?" Virgil asks, his voice small. He curls further into Deceit's side. "Don't wan' him to shout.." he whispers. 

Dee sighs, moving an arm to gently stroke his fingers through Virgil's hair. "He's not in there. I /didn't/ check," he answers, fixing the emo with a fond look. 

"Can you come with me?" Virgil asks quietly, fixing Deceit with the most innocent look. 

Deceit nods, drawing his arm away from the anxious side. He stands up, picking up his empty glass and plate to bring to the kitchen. 

Virgil follows him, trailing fluffy blanket behind him as he walks sleepily across the carpet. 

Deceit places the glass and plate down and moves to take out two slices for Virgil. 

Virgil watches him for a moment before halfheartedly reaching forward, tearing off a corner of one of the slices of bread and putting it in his mouth. He chews on it for a while before mumbling a quiet,"I forgot how to eat food," 

Dee snorts and prepares the remainder of the sandwich for him. 

Virgil glances at the kitchen top, his eyes immediately falling on the knife Deceit used to cut the sandwich in half. His gaze remains on the knife. It doesn't look that sharp, he muses, but he could probably cause some damage to his skin if he really tried hard enough. He'd just have to press it against his arm with a lot more .. force than he's used to. 

"Virge?" Deceit calls, immediately noticing Virgil's focus on the knife. He quickly places it in the sink behind a dirty bowl, hidden from view. 

"Hmm?" Virgil mumbles, shaken out of whatever strange daze he was in. 

"Your sandwich," Deceit remarks, pointing to the sandwich he just prepared. 

Virgil picks the plate up and carries it back to the living room, his hands shaking a little, causing the plate to shake too. 

Dee sits next to him, unsure what to say. Something's wrong. Of course something's wrong. Virgil wouldn't have tried to kill himself earlier if something wasn't wrong. Still, it gives Deceit an uneasy feeling. He wants Virgil to be happy but he can't 'make everything all okay again', he can only endeavour to make things better than they are now. Sometimes even that seems like a monumental task. 

Virgil eats his sandwich slowly, his eyes trained to the floor. He feels a little strange, a mix of tiredness, sadness and something else he can't quite name. He just knows the sensation is akin to something terrible and hollow, as if his chest is caving in and there's no internal organs to stop the bones from crashing into each other. He's not crying. He doesn't really feel like crying. He wants something but when he tries to focus his mind and figure out what that something could possibly be, he finds nothing or to explain it better, everything. He finds so many feelings of want directed in so many different places that he just can't narrow it down to any possible thing. 

Dee seems to notice because of course he does. He shuffles next to Virgil, rests his head on the other's shoulder. 

"I'm tired," Dee whispers, his eyes closing. 

"Me too," Virgil mumbles, finishing his sandwich. 

"D'you want to go back to bed?" Deceit asks, opening his eyes again to blink up at Virgil sleepily. 

Virgil nods. 

He doesn't really know what exactly he wants. He doesn't like being cold so he figures that means he shouldn't remain in the living room. 

"I'm sorry," Virgil whispers once the two of them are cuddled together underneath the blankets again. 

"Stop apologising and go to sleep, V.." Deceit mumbles. He slinks an arm around the anxious side protectively. 

Virgil leans into the touch, his eyes falling closed. He doesn't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O look, it's 1 am again.  
> I'll deal with the typos at one point.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope there's no typos cause that would suck.


End file.
